Ripped from the ground before your eyes.
Our world consists of rot and dirt,
Forgetting what it means to hurt.
Under the light of a godless sky,
We shuffle on, barely passing you by.
Those that see expect a screech, or a “BOO!”
But you seem to forget that we’re done with you.
While your flesh may serve as a muse for our walk,
We’ve lost the skill and the patience for talk.
So stay in your homes; be safe in your bed.
Ignore the march of yesterday’s dead.
The bravest of you pull a knife or a gun.
In no real danger, we refuse to run.
Your true fear is soon revealed in your face,
And we pick up our feet for your final chase.
The dead continue to rise from the ground.
While more of your friends seem to not be around.
And before you start wondering what you must do,
Just remember that we were once your friends too.
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